A Midnight Visit Uh-oh
by poisoned-.-rationality
Summary: Simon just got back from an unbelievably embarrassing date with Isabelle. When he's about to call it a night; a certain cocky, blond crawls through his window. What will happen when Jace misinterprets the signals Simon is sending him? Crack-fic, BOYxBOY and mentions of MPREG: Don't like it, don't read. (This is an entry for Holly-Mae Clarissa's TMI contest) Rated T just to be safe


**This is an entry for Holly-Mae Clarissa's TMI contest.**

**Author: **poisoned-.-rationality

**Summary: **Simon just got back from an unbelievably embarrassing date with Isabelle. When he's about to call it a night; a certain cocky, blond crawls through his window. What will happen when Jace misinterprets the signals Simon is sending him? Crack-fic, BOYxBOY and mentions of MPREG: if you don't like it, don't read it.

**Pairing: **Simon/Jace

**Time Frame: **After City of Heavenly Fire

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Mortal Instruments or the character, Cassandra Clare does... Sadly. And Stan Lee owns "The Amazing Spiderman!" comics. But I do own the plot. Enjoy!

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**A Midnight Visit... Uh-oh**

Isabelle smiled, tucking a strand of black behind her ear. "I had a really nice time tonight. Even when you—"

"No!" Simon slapped a pale hand over her mouth before she could finish. "The memory is still very clear in my mind, and it will be for a very long time."

This time Isabelle burst out laughing, "The waiter kept hitting on you. Then, he eventually gave up because you weren't getting the message so he "accidentally" spilled the blood on your pants. He kept trying to dry it off with his apron."

If blood still pumped through his veins, he would have blushed beet red. "Goodnight, Izzy" Simon said, swinging the door shut.

"See ya later, Simon!" He heard muffled by 3 inches of wood. The living room was a mess. Trash litter the floor, and it reeked of sweat and something suspiciously similar to the stink of urine. A half-eaten pizza was left in the open on the coffee table, surrounded by mostly empty beer bottles. Jordan and Maia probably invited a few friends over and forgot to clean up after they left. But he didn't have the energy to do anything about his roommate's crap.

Simon barely reached the couch before collapsing. He hadn't slept in two days. Jordan's girlfriend, Maia, had decided to visit their cruddy apartment two days ago and she hasn't left since. Mysteriously, he hadn't seen either of the werewolves all weekend, but he could hear them. The wall between their rooms was thick, but not exactly sound-proof, and his enhanced vampire hearing wasn't helping. Day and night, Simon could hear them going at it, especially at night. Tonight though, it was quiet. Maybe the sleep-deprivation was numbing the nerve cells in his ears.

Finally, Simon thought contently, drifting into a deep slumber.

All too soon, he felt someone shaking him awake. Simon grunted, and twisted further into the couch. He cringed— it smelled like wet dog. The person shook him again.

"Jordan, go away. I don't fucking know where you left your underwear, but I know it's not here." Simon mumbled, still half asleep.

"I knew it – you really do want to do me. I don't think Izzy would be very happy about that." A familiar voice said sarcastically. It sounded male, but it definitely wasn't Jordan.

Simon rolled over. "What the hell do you want Jace. And how did you get into our apartment?" He added as an afterthought.

"I used my stele." He stated, and pointed towards the window. The iridescent blue lines on the glass panel hadn't faded yet.

Simon propped himself up on his elbows, his cocoa brown hair stuck out at odd angles. "You still didn't answer my question, Jace."

"I thought vampirism was supposed to enhance your senses. You really did get the short end of the rope. I. Used. My. Stele." He emphasized, holding up the gray wand for the other boy to see.

Simon rolled his eyes. "I'm not Helen Keller, asshole. Why are you here?"

"Consider yourself lucky, most people would be ecstatic to be graced with my presence in the middle of the night."

Simon shot him a pointed look. The blond looked him straight into his eyes with his hypnotizing gold ones. Since when did he find anything about Jace appealing? "Okay, I came here for you."

Simon's face contorted into one of confusion. "What?"

Jace sighed, and swept the junk on low rising table aside so he could sit, his long legs stretched out in front of him, "I want you. I want to be with you."

"Jace, if you hadn't noticed in the past few months that we've known each other, I hate you. And you hate me." For some reason, the words that spewed out of his mouth felt rehearsed.

"I know you're lying," Jace observed. "It's written all over your face." He reached a hand to caress his pale cheek, "Your beautiful face"

Simon sprung up from the couch, and started to back away. _Was he high? Did one of the waitresses slip faerie drugs in his soda again? _"Wh-what about Clary? You're beautiful, female, appealing girlfriend." He backpedaled into the kitchen. "I'm sure she's wondering where you are, right?" Jace stalked in after him, the way a lion stalks a gazelle. However, he didn't think that Jace's objective was to eat him in the literal sense. "D-did I mention that she is female?" Simon asked from behind the small island. Now it was the only thing keeping his pursuer away.

Jace braced his hands on the counter top, ready pounce if Simon made a move. "Clary whines twenty four seven. But you, you've always been there, standing on the sidelines, and I never realized how much I needed you, how much I loved you. Until now." Simon was shocked; he didn't even notice that the shadowhunter had rounded the corner. When Simon saw how close the other was, the lustful look on his face, he panicked. Fumbling over the smooth countertop, he grabbed the first thing that he could get a sturdy grip on. And that something just happened to be a two-inch-wide kitchen knife.

_Smooth, Lewis, _his inner voice patronized. _Point the extremely sharp object at the highly-trained killer because that __always__ ends well for the person on this side of the knife in the movies._

Jace stared at the knife pointed at his chest for a moment. Then he looked back at Simon, "So you like it rough. I can do that." He ripped off his shirt, buttons splintered everywhere. Simon winced as one bounced off his eye.

"Uhh-uh..." There Jace was standing shirtless, in the middle of his kitchen held at knifepoint by a D&D nerd turned blood-sucking mythical creature. His abs seemed be a bit shallower and rounder than he thought someone who trained every day. Over his heart, the near perfect skin on his chest was marred by the ugly scar Glorious left. The golden boy wasn't hideous from what he could tell—the exact opposite actually. No wonder Clary fell in love with this douche bag. Simon could almost imagine someone shining a giant spotlight on him from the background, with his hair billowing in a synthetic fan-made breeze.

Woah, woah, woah, Simon warned himself. Stop right there before you before you cross the line. Gay: Straight. He could picture a tiny man with a potbelly and 5 o'clock shadow wildly gesturing left and right. Gay: an image of Jace shirtless, slipping off his belt flashed in his mind. And straight: the shirtless blond was replaced by a very provocatively positioned Isabelle wearing a scarlet red bikini. Please choose the latter, the voiced begged.

Simon hand jerked forward, and blood trickled down Jace's broad chest. He looked incredulous, and slapped Simon the face. Hard. If Simon were still human, Jace's gigantic hand would have left a red welt.

"Bastard." Jace muttered. A moment later Jace had him in a bone-crushing hug. "Babe, I sorry. I didn't mean it." He cried into Simon's shoulder, apologizing profusely. Then, Simon felt Jace's lips plant butterfly kisses against his neck, down to the collar bone. He switched sides, nipping at the soft skin. Simon's eyes fluttered closed, and he let himself enjoy the feeling. A second later they shot open. He shoved the boy sucking his neck away. Jace stumbled backwards into the grimy white fridge. It teetered back and forth precariously, eventually settling to Simon's relief. He surprised neither of the werewolves had woken up. Jordan sleeps like a bear in coma on his good days, but they hadn't exactly quiet.

"Why?" Jace asked, breaking the silence.

"Well isn't obvious? I'm a guy." Simon clarified, gesturing to his crotch. But when he saw Jace's face at his observation, he quickly added, "Not that being gay, is a problem," He just remembered that Jace's parabatai, his blood brother just happened to have an interest in the male gender. "But if you have forgotten your sexual orientation for some reason: it's women. And so is mine. I am dating your sister."

Jace eyed him dubiously, "You are a woman."

Simon glared at him, "Very funny, Jace. But I can assure you, I am without a doubt a man. I've been pissing upright since 1997."

Jace analyzed him thoughtfully, "You weren't potty-trained until you were 6?" Simon chose to ignore that observation. "And last time I checked, it was physically impossible for the men to get periods."

He looked down at his jeans, confused. The dark, stiff stain blotted at the crotch and spread across the navy blue fabric a few inches. The blood had dried quite a bit since the waiter "tripped", and now it was more of a crusty brown than a red, especially at the edges.

"Oh this isn't what you think. The waiter, h-he—"

"Simon," Jace interrupted. "You don't have to pretend around me; I won't judge. Although, you do have very small chest for a woman"

"I am not a woman; I'm dating your sister!"

"Hmm," Jace said thoughtfully, "I never pegged Izzy as a lesbian."

"I- I- ugh!" Simon threw his hands in the air. Jace wrapped his arms around the vampire for the second time that night.

"Shhh," He soothed. "It's okay. Denial is the first step. Accepting who and what you are is very important. But don't worry, I don't care how long it takes. We'll be with you every step of the way."

Simon's brow furrowed, "We, as in plural?"

"Yes, Simon: we." He grabbed Simon's pale hand and placed it over his own stomach. There was a slight bulge, though you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for it. "Our baby."

Simon tried to swallow the stress-induced lump festering in his throat. If he thought he was on edge before, he was way past that now. He half-expected the gang to jump from behind the couch and from the hallway yelling things ranging from "April Fools" to "Dude, you're so gullible".

Then he saw the look on Jace's face fading from hopeful to worried. He was vaguely aware of the impregnated shadowhunter asking if he was okay. After a while, Simon managed to sputter out, "O-oh, th-that-ts great. I-I thought you were just getting chubby"

Apparently, even someone as in shape as Jace was could be sensitive about their weight. The look on his face could make a momma bear cower. The blond reeled his fist back, and punched the clueless idiot right in the nose. Simon heard a loud crack, and felt a sharp pain in nose. It was worse than the time his mom slammed the car door on his hand by accident when he was nine.

He managed to stay up for a few seconds before crumpling to the ground. Dark spots burned through his vision. He saw Jace standing over him clenching his fists before he lost consciousness.

**-Line Break-**

Simon woke up with a pounding headache, and the blinding sunlight peeking through the blinds wasn't helping. He gradually propped himself into a seating position as to not make the migraine worse. On his nightstand, there was a lone glass pooling with a clear brown liquid, a white thermometer, and two— no three, he spotted another laying on the floor— empty beer bottles.

He rubbed his bleary eyes, unsure if the bottles were really there. The action made him wince. He carefully prodded his face to find the source of the pain. When he pressed the bridge of his nose, he felt the bones shift slight, this time the pain was worse. Simon drew his hands back, it was definitely broken.

_What happen last night_, he wondered. _How much did I drink?_

He glanced back at the table, the glass and bottles were still there, but the white stick wasn't a thermometer. When he looked closer, there weren't any numbers, only a plus sign followed by the word "positive" in all 's eyes widened, he ripped off the baby blue comforter. There was no red stain, he wasn't even wearing jeans, but he still check underneath just to be sure. He sighed in relief when he found that under his grey sweats and Luke Skywalker boxers, his manhood was still there.

_It was just a dream_, he assured himself. _A dream that would never be mentioned aloud to anyone, not even if Isabelle threatened to throw his mint condition "The Amazing Spiderman!" comics into a bonfire. _He took a moment to reconsider. _Okay, maybe to save issue #129, but he kept that hidden safely under the floorboards of his mother's house, so he didn't have much to worry about._

He heard rustling behind him. A warm, tan arm snaked around his waist. It was, too, muscular to along to any non-weight-lifting women. Something was poking his back, something round.

"What's wrong, babe?" Asked a husky, male voice. "Did you have a bad dream?"

_Oh shit._

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**Review! Do you think I should continue? Tell me what you think. And yes, I do except flames.**

- **poisoned-.-rationality**


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